


Damage Done

by AnimusReach



Series: Living Through The Damage Done [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Coma, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Multi, Near Death, Other, Spoilers, a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimusReach/pseuds/AnimusReach
Summary: Joining Team Skull was simultaneously the best and worst decision of your life. A family that stood by you when shit went down, a big ol' band of partners in crime (literally), a big, if wrecked, town all to yourselves... and an angry, unpredictable, dangerously endearing boss. That one teeters on the edge between the good and the bad. It might fall right off the edge into the metaphorical abyss if he's not careful.He's not known for being careful.





	1. A Tapu Cocoa A Day Keeps The Tantrums Away (Unless You Drink It Too Late)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright it's reader but everything goes wrong. You're a member of Team Skull, higher than the grunts, but not as high as Plumeria. Guzma is still your boss, but he's soft on you so you have a few extra privileges the others don't get. Eventually the perspective kinda shifts to Guzma instead of you. There will kinda be spoilers??? Kinda. I'll tag shit as it goes along. This ain't gonna be a fun ride, folks.
> 
> Be prepared for the metaphorical abyss, Guzy. Oh boy, it's gonna be a long, hard fall.
> 
> Don't say I didn't warn you guys. This chapter is tame. That's because it's the beginning. It'll get worse. Much worse. How much worse? Let's just say there's a reason I'm not gonna use Archive Warnings. That'd give too much away. Prepare your butts, grunts.
> 
> Also... why the fuck am I attached to the grumpy fuckhead types?

There was yelling. The sound of glass breaking. He was pissed again, for some reason. You didn't even know why. None of the grunts knew why. Even Plumes didn't know, but he was pissed. You all carefully avoided his room, save for the extraordinarily nervous 'guards' in front of his room. Hell, they were terrible guards. Half the time they seemed to be more in favor of keeping him _in_ , then keeping others _out_.

Things quieted down after a while, and you resolved yourself to go in and check on him, even after one of the grunts desperately tried to convince you not to, tugging on your arm with a worried hiss, "Yo, it's not worth it! What if he's not done?!" You carefully scurried your way across the roof, a frown etched on your features. The two grunts in front of his door gave you wide-eyed, worried glances, but they said nothing as you cracked open the door. "... Guuuzma... ?"

A loud grumble greeted you from the direction of his bed, and you slipped into the room, closing the door. His room, as expected, was wrecked. There was glass everywhere and a third of the bottles formerly on the shelf behind his bed had been drained of their contents and were now in little pieces everywhere. "The fuck do you want?" You spotted him on his bed, almost pitiful looking. He was tucked up under the covers with a pillow draped over his head, one tired eye peeking out at you from under it, accompanied by the tiniest tuft of white fluff.

Tactfully restraining a gentle smile at the sight before you, you tentatively, doing your best to avoid the overabundant supply of shards all over the floor, made your way to his bed, squatting down beside it to make eye contact with him. "... You good now?"

"No. Again... the fuck you want?" He shut his eyes, and you sighed gently.

"I wanted to make sure you're good, G. Look, I can bring you up some Tapu Cocoa, sound good?"

Eyes opening, he glared at you from under the pillow, though it was relatively feeble compared to his actually pissed glares. He'd tuckered himself out and wasn't much of a threat at this point. He finally removed the pillow, tossing that across the room like he'd done the bottles, but his throw was weak enough that it didn't land any farther than his chair, hitting the arm and falling to the ground with a very quiet 'whump'. His hair was even more messy than usual, and his sunglasses were noticeably askew, but he didn't seem to care, sitting up and grunting at you, then giving you a small hint of a sneer. "Well, hurry up then. I ain't gettin' it myself."

"Aight boss, aight, I'm gettin' it," you murmured, though your voice was patient and lightly playful, keeping yourself upbeat to contrast his heavy, negative aura. It's part of why he got a soft spot for you. Even at his worst, you were patient with him, giving him a little light even when the storm raging around Po Town was particularly rough. It was corny, but it was true. The other grunts used to mock you for it, "How'd da boss let you in when you're a goody two-shoes, huh? What, you woo him off his feet or somethin'?" That was, until he made a point to threaten the lot of them that if they kept teasing you he'd personally toss all of them into the pool and break the ladder clean off it so they couldn't climb out without help. That shut 'em up quick.

You wandered off down to the kitchen, digging around in the barren cabinets for his cocoa stash, then hurriedly fixed up a mug for him before he started another fit about not gettin' his drink fast enough. By the time you got up to his room again, he'd cooled off, sitting in his chair and fiddling with his laptop. You handed off the mug in silence, and he glanced up at you as he took a sip. "Mmh. Good shit. Nice."

Snorting gently, you flashed him a smirk. " 'Course it's good, I know how you like it. I watched you make it enough times by now." You lightly punched his arm, a frequent gesture between the two of you, and he punched your arm right back, his always harder than yours, just a bit, as if to subtly make a point.

"Aight. Get outta here. 'M busy."


	2. Cutieflies and Exeggutors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your buddies Ayla & Zeres take you on a tiny vacation of mischievousness, and, as you enjoyed calling him in hushed tones very far away from where he could hear, "Oozy Goozy" lets you have a present. Well, more like keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, your nickname is Sketch. That's what the other grunts call you. You haven't used your real name for ages and using it at this point doesn't even feel like it was EVER you. You get fluff and happy times before the angst. 
> 
> You're lucky.

"Sketch! Sketchy! Yo!" You'd been popping in and out of buildings around Po Town, trying to find your stash of berries and pokébeans, to no avail. _Can't fuckin' trust any'a these assheads_ , you thought to yourself, but you looked up from the bag you were looking through to see your friend Ayla rush into the building. "Yo, Sketch! Me and Zeres are headin' outta town, we gonna see if we can nab some pokémon off a few losers. Come wit us!"

Laughing softly, you sighed. Your stash was probably toast at this point. Why not? "I'm comin', I'm comin'." Ayla nearly dragged you out of the rickety old house, past the barrier, and out of town, Zeres close behind.

"Ayla! Sketch! C'mon, chill! Youz guys _suck_!"

"Hurry up, Z! You're slackin'," you called back teasingly. Zeres was one of the youngest grunts, only about 13, and he was shorter than both of you, considering Ayla was 17 and you were edging closer and closer to 23. You weren't terribly taller, though, so he wasn't _that_  far behind. He did have a penchant for childish dramatics, though. "We got shit to do, man!"

"Awwwwww, fuck you." That was the only reply you received as you and Ayla slowed so your tag-along companion could catch up. He made his way between you both, bouncing one of his pokéballs in his hand. You had to admit, he was doing pretty good keeping his cool among the older grunts, and especially Guzma, who towered so far above him he looked like a Cutiefly trying to take on an Exeggutor. You couldn't help snickering to yourself at that mental image, causing him to glance up at you. "What?" His voice was challenging, but the pre-pubescent-ness of it took off any edge he might have intended it to have.

"... Nothin', Z. Ya dweeb," you chuckled, snatching his skull beanie and ruffling his bright blue-and-green streaked hair to the response of him smacking at you, trying to grab at his beanie, along with Ayla laughing at you both.

3 hours later, the three of you returned with an actual small stash of nabbed pokémon (mostly thanks to your prized Haunter and Vikavolt, but Ayla and Zeres did help enough to count, too). You carried them to the mansion, but Ayla and Zeres broke off, letting you deliver the snatched bag of pokémon yourself. "Just tell the boss we helped, aight? Don't be fuckin' stingy," Ayla chimed, giving you a gentle push before disappearing to get a sandwich.

Zeres stepped away with a shy smile, murmuring very softly about 'big' and 'scary' and 'mean', and you snickered, giving him an affectionate nudge. "Ya got that right, Z. Can't blame ya. Yo, shit, I forgot, tell Ayla to get me a sandwich too!" Eyes brightening, he relaxed again, running off to find her and relay the message.

You made your way up to Guzma's room, knocking on the door before poking your head in. "Yo, boss... We got some pokémon."

Guzma was shuffling in his closet, his jacket tossed on his chair. His head jerked up, nearly smacking it against the shelf inside, though he caught himself before it happened and tipped his head back to look at you. "Sketch. Whatcha got? Get in 'ere."

Stepping into the room, you plopped the small bag of stolen pokéballs onto the ground, waiting for him as he finished... whatever it was he was doing, and wandered back over to his chair, slipping his jacket back on. "Ayla, Zeres, dey helped, we got like, 8 pokémon! One of 'ems a uh..." you paused, trying to remember all the pokémon that were in the bag. "Oh, one of 'ems a Riolu!" You put on your best puppy eyes, "Can I keep him, G? Pleeeaaaassseeee?"

Groaning softly, he rolled his eyes, "If it shuts you up, alright."

"Yes!" You rushed forward, nearly tackling him in his chair for a hug. He gave a grunt of surprise, staring down at you with a bewildered brow raise, though he patted your back after a moment of adjusting to your sudden weight in his lap.

"Uh. Sure. You good, Sketch? 'Cause uh. That's my lap." You lifted your head off his shoulder, looking down at yourself, then back up at him, a seductive smirk slowly growing on your face.

"I noticed," you reply in a low hum, resting your head against him again. You trailed your fingers across his shoulder and down his chest quietly, making yourself comfortable as his very willing and at-the-moment _literal_ lap- dog.

A devious smirk settled on his face, slipping an arm around you and burying his face into your hair. "Well... I guess if you know what you're doin', then we're good here."

The other grunts had a hint that you and Guzma were closer than you both appeared at first glance, catching bits and pieces of hushed conversations between the both of you, little glimpses of kisses and touches that were a little more grope than casual pat. Plumeria knew, though. At first she was pissed - not because she wanted him for herself, but because she was worried you'd mess up the semblance of order that the Skulls had settled into. After a while though, seeing how comfortable the boss was with you, she eased up, and even though she was a few years younger than you, she immediately took to you and you both became pretty close friends. You'd defend each other till the death, if need be.

He tilted your head up, your eyes settling on his, distracting yourself with the cool blue-grey that met yours before you let them slip down to his lips. The crook of a grin that grew only spread to you as well, and he leaned into you, his lips pressing to yours with a subdued, lurking hunger. "Damn, all you do is sit in my fuckin' lap and you make me a mess. How the fuck?"

Snickering devilishly, you dug your fingers into his hair and trailed a few kisses from his lips, across his jaw, down his neck, and to his collarbone, giving a playful tug at the chain around his neck. Ignoring his moan of pleasure, you maneuvered off of his lap, and his moan immediately changed to a disgruntled whine. "We still gotta inspect the pokémon, _boss_ ," you teased, punching his arm, only snickering harder when he whacked his fist into your arm particularly rough, though he stroked the spot lightly afterward, glaring up at you with a hint of amusement on his face.

"Fuck you."

"That a threat, or a promise?"

"Both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter title is both an amusing metaphor for Zeres and Guzma, but also for Sketch and Guzma. He loves bugs. You'd climb him like a tree. Fitting.


	3. Cutting Down On Mess... and Skulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't on purpose. Oh Arceus, it wasn't on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes the tag list* ... Look at all those chickens... Those are scary chickens...
> 
> Wait for it.
> 
> This story is pretty much just me self-serving, so I'm glad you guys like it anyway! Hopefully the "Sketch" thing isn't buggin' you guys? Not that I'm gonna change it, but sorry 'bout that. It's not for no reason! The nickname has meaning.
> 
> Short, bitter, and to the point.

It was cleaning day! Well, more like 'rearranging because shit's piling up and damn near impossible to navigate at this point' day. Everyone had to pitch in. Including pokémon. Thankfully a few other grunts had a couple of Machokes and even a Machamp, so things were moving along not-so-terribly. Even Plumeria and Guzma were helping, though admitedly less. Guzma let his Golisopod run around, carrying a few things back and forth with his gigantic arms. Some of the grunts were terrified of the boss's bugs, but you had a soft spot for them, especially watching as your Vikavolt Jellybean rushed around you all, carrying a few smaller things in his pincers. You'd have to remind yourself to give him a few extra pokébeans later for a job well done.

It wasn't that you guys were inclined to make the mansion look beautiful. It was just piling up and **something** had to be done to get rid of at **least** a bit of it. Everyone was getting tired, and it was only after a good few more minutes passed before a sharp crack sounded, causing a bunch of grunts _and_  pokémon to jump and scatter away from the sound. Everyone looked toward it to find the source, however, and there at the epicenter of the crack that had sounded was a grinning Guzma and Golisopod, who had just sliced an entire couch in half. "Look, we didn't need it. We got plenty. Razor shell's good for shit outside'a battles, too."

You couldn't help but squint at him in bemused disbelief for a few moments, eyeing the destroyed couch and the cushion fluff that had poofed everywhere. Plumeria stifled a giggle, and that was all you needed to start laughing. "Yeah! Slice up everything!" A few grunts cheered, always supportive of unnecessary destruction and chaos, which only made Guzma's grin bigger.

After that, it was much faster. Golisopod just sliced through anything that didn't really need to be kept, and everything that was meant to stay was carried off to less intrusive spots. The chandelier, though... the chandelier stayed.

You were bending down behind a large box to pick up a few things to move upstairs, just standing up, when you heard Plumeria's voice shouting "WAI-" cut off by a loud crack. And pain. The box split open, and so did your chest, enough to scrape ribs. He hadn't seen you. He couldn't have known. Everything you were holding dropped.

As did you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.
> 
> Of all the times to land a critical hit... this was one of those really bad times.
> 
> (I have a Vikavolt named Jellybean. I got him when he was a wee pointy-faced Grubbin and even now that he's sharp and pointy he's still my little jellybean. I let Sketch borrow him.)


	4. "Shit" Is A Gross Understatement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was anything Guzma was solidly, 100% sure of in the past few years, it's that his heart had stopped for at least 5 seconds, and that his stomach had taken up permanent residence down tangled amongst his intestines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Guzma time. Here's your beautiful, inky abyss, big guy.

"FUCK!" Guzma rushed over in a panic, desperately scooping you up. "Shit, shit shit, _SHIT_. Sketch, hey, nonono. Fuck!" Jellybean swooped over, giving a terrified staticky buzz. Golisopod's shell blades immediately fizzled out, rushing over as well, giving a noise of concern. A number of grunts stood stock still, frozen in horror, before he snapped at them, " **Help me, you idiots!** " That jarred them out of their frozen states, all the grunts around hurrying to get something to carry you, Plume grabbing an extra shirt from an incomplete uniform laying nearby, rushing over and holding it against your wound.

You were still conscious. Your fight or flight had kicked in immediately. You'd been hurt by pokémon before, but never this bad. This was so much worse. The adrenaline coursing through you helped numb the pain, but your hands were shaky and weak as you held the shirt to your chest. Your arms had been cut too, though not as badly. Guzma ended up deciding to carry you on his own, rushing off as Plume, Ayla, Zeres, Golisopod, and Jellybean followed close behind.

He couldn't get to the Pokémon Center nearly fast enough. His eyes were half on you, half on his surroundings so he wouldn't trip and fall and potentially straight up kill you. "You fuckin' keep your eyes open, you hear me?! Don't you fuckin' dare!" You were fading. Way too much blood loss, and he could tell. "Shit shit shit" became a quiet mantra for him.

You were trying. You were trying so damn hard. You were shaky and for the life of you, you couldn't seem to keep your hand pressed against the wound hard enough to help much. In a daze, you noticed that Guzma's normally clean white shirt was now covered in blood, and you became concerned that he had been injured too, until it processed in your sluggish brain that no, he's fine, all of that is yours. _... Oh._

At this point, he didn't care how anyone reacted to his presence as he burst into the Pokémon Center. "We need a fuckin' room! YESTERDAY!" That was enough for everyone to scurry into action, getting you on a stretcher and carting you away. He watched helplessly as you disappeared from view, pacing back and forth and dragging a hand through his hair, not even noticing that it spread garish red streaks through the bleached white mess. His voice was no more than a low growl, berating himself as he kept his pace, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, "Fucked up. You fucked up, Guzma. You always fuck up."

Zeres plopped down in one of the chairs, his nerves wrecked, though Jellybean buzzed over and settled on the table in front of him, allowing the boy to pet and stroke his shell. Ayla rubbed her face, struggling to fight back tears as she sat down beside him, burying her head on the table. Plumeria, bless her, was the most levelheaded of the group, calling Golisopod over and rubbing his head. "It's okay. You two didn't know. It's okay, buddy."

It was about 2 and a half hours before a nurse came out. Golisopod was back in his ball, Zeres had dozed off with his head against Ayla, who had been rubbing his shoulder nervously for about an hour. Jellybean was very much awake, giving the occasional worried buzz. Plumeria was sat beside Guzma, who, despite having gotten cleaned up and settled in a light blue t-shirt with a Lapras on it in place of his bloodied shirt, jacket, and chain, was now staring at the floor blankly. Everyone in that Pokemon Center was lucky, in a warped sense. How often did anyone get to see "Big Bad Guzma, destruction in human form" destroyed himself? In a dumb-looking Lapras shirt, even?

The nurse stepped over, a solemn expression on her face. "They're in critical condition, but they're alive." His head rose slowly, looking up at the woman, though not making eye contact. The dark circles around his eyes were significantly more pronounced as he gave an uncharacteristically weak, "... What... ?"

"You can come see them," she offered.

Guzma rose slowly, glancing back at Plumes, though she shook her head with a drained sigh. "Go on, G." Following the nurse, he ducked his head low. He was still so big, but he looked so small.

She stopped him outside your room, speaking to him privately. "I didn't want to tell you this where everyone could hear. They... They were in cardiac arrest for several minutes. We can't make any promises that they'll survive this." He gave a small nod, only subconsciously registering her words, his eyes focused on the window on the door into your room. The nurse finally opened the door, and he shuffled in, pushed so far out of his comfort zone that he didn't even seem like the same person.

Sitting himself down beside your bed, he inspected all the wires, tubes, and gauze, eyeing the Wigglytuff in the corner who was fiddling with a few things. She spun around, hopping up a small set of steps up toward your bed. Using Heal Pulse, she exhaled a stream of pink sparkles which spread over both you and Guzma, and he lowered his head, the tension in his body finally easing up. "Tuff," she chirped softly, then waddled out of the room.

Almost immediately, he huffed out a heavy breath he'd been holding, shakily dragging in more air as he began to cry. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm so fuckin' sorry... Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> He's not known for being careful.
> 
> ...
> 
> He's not known for admitting that sometimes that fact bothers him just as much as everyone else.


	5. Punch Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like him to be so quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For added pain + the fact that bechno kid's art is magical, have this to accompany the story:   
> http://bechnokid.tumblr.com/post/151742253257

It had been 2 months since the accident. You were still in a coma, and Guzma had dropped out of nearly any other responsibility besides taking care of Team Skull, and even that he did partially from your room. His jacket, long since cleaned, and his scrubbed chain were back in their rightful places, though he'd had to get a new shirt. They'd cleaned the other one well, but every time he looked at it, his mind recreated the giant dark red stain against the stark white of the rest of the shirt, and it made him sick to his stomach. News traveled fast about what had happened, but he paid no attention to any of it. For once, he honestly didn't care one way or the other about the attention it brought to him or the Skulls. Once in a while, a sympathetic party would leave flowers or balloons for your room, and he even got a small letter from his mom and a card from Nanu, which surprised him the most. He only decorated your room with the flowers and balloons for your sake, for when you woke up. _When. Not if. They're gonna wake up._

At the moment he was holed up in your room beside you, chewing on a random granola bar he'd gotten from a vending machine, with a cup of Tapu Cocoa sitting nearby. He couldn't exactly place what the bar was made of, but it tasted like there were some oran berry chunks scattered in there, somewhere. The door to your room pushed open, Zeres stepping in shyly with a pokéball, followed closely by Jellybean and your Haunter, Erayse, who was affectionately named such because he was often your plus one for nearly anything, "the Erayser for your Sketches", Jellybean close behind. "Uhm, hi boss," he spoke quietly, making his way to your bedside. Guzma didn't get a chance to greet him before Zeres adressed you, patting at your arm gently. "Ray 'n Jelly wanted to say hi, Sketch. Oh, uhm, I brought your Riolu too." He pressed the button on the ball, and your (albiet stolen) Riolu formed in a flash of white.

"I been trainin' him a lil' bit, just, ya know, to get him comfy wit us." He diverted his attention back to the little blue puppy-creature. "Yo, Riolu, this is your real trainer. I'm jus' a stand-in." Riolu wandered over hesitantly, climbing up the steps beside your bed and peering at you. Guzma gave a weak, sad snort.

"Betcha when Sketch wakes up, Riolu's gettin' the hug of his lil' life," he spoke softly, glancing over at Zeres.

Zeres laughed shyly, nodding. "Yeah! You hear dat, Sketch? Ya gotta wake up and hug the shit outta Riolu." The small pokémon scrambled down from the side of your bed, giving a startled bark at the concept of a hug that tight. Zeres grinned, rubbing the pokémon's head before calling it back into its ball. "I uh, I'mma let 'em stay, okay? Okay." And with that he ran from the room, leaving Guzma alone with you again. Not including Jellybean buzzing faintly near the window, Riolu's pokéball on the bedside table, and Ray silently slipping in and out of the shadows.

"Sketch? Baby?" His eyes landed on you after a long pause, tangling a hand in his hair. It was growing out, and the black of his roots were starting to show, his undercut getting fuzzy, but he was beginning to care less. "... I miss you. Ya gotta wake up soon, aight? Don't leave me hangin'."

When he wasn't in your room, he would make his way back to Po Town. The grunts didn't bother him, and he didn't really talk to them much. Plumeria knew to generally leave him alone unless _he_  came to _her_ , too. Hell, even she was more subdued. She did get quiet visits often, though, mostly consisting of tight, tired hugs before he left again.

This time, he made his way into his room, dropping into his 'throne' with a weary sigh. After a long moment of deliberation, he got up and snatched a bottle, chugging half of it and setting it on the table beside the chair. Half turned to 2 and a half, to 3 and a half, to four... After that, his brain was comfortably fuzzy enough to not wrack him with intrusive thoughts about you dying.

Another 3 months passed, and by then everyone was visiting. At the moment, Hala was standing beside your bed with a saddened frown. "Guzma... Maybe it's time to le-"

"I swear to Arceus, old man, if you say what I think you're gonna say, I'mma beat you twelve ways to Sunday."

Shaking his head, the older man sighed, leaving the topic and looking down at your still-unconscious body. "... I really do hope you get better, (Y/N)."

"It's Sketch. It has been for years now," he murmured stubbornly, crossing his arms. At this point, he'd resigned to letting himself go a little. He wasn't gaining much weight, or getting particularly messy, but bleaching his hair and shaving more than once every few days was put on the backburner. More and more of his focus was being poured onto you.

Hala didn't put up an argument, staying for a bit longer before leaving you both alone. Once the man had gone, Guzma loosened up again, his big bad boss exterior tossed to the side. He leaned over to you. "So, listen, listen. Alright so, I was lookin' around, and I found this stupid fuckin' site with puns 'n shit. Listenlistenlistenlisten, okay so..." He glanced up at the screen of his laptop, checking the groan-worthy jokes he'd found, "Okay, why should ya never tell your pokémon when you're takin' a shower?" He paused, as if you'd answer, a grin spreading across his face. "Ya think ya got it? It's 'cause they might Pikachu!" He laughed softly to himself, gently punching your arm, though his laughter faded into a heavy breath. "... You're supposed to punch back."

He stayed significantly quieter the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue punch buggy, no punch back!
> 
> ... Yeah, that just made me sad.
> 
> Also, no, Guzma doesn't have an alcohol problem, you do.


	6. A Man, A Toy, and A Pokémon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzma would give you the world on a golden platter if he could. He likes getting you presents, especially so he can watch your reaction to seeing them all for the first time when you wake up!
> 
> ... IF you wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. THIS is how it happened. Fuck Lusamine man, ya boi is smarter than that here... And more preoccupied. That too.
> 
> It's short, and sad. Kind of like life sometimes.

Guzma's hair was actually black, and grown out. It was black besides white tips, anyway. Trimming the undercut and dying the rest took too much of his time away from you. The tips didn't take too long, though. Gave him something to do to stop thinking for a while.

It had been almost a year. You had started twitching occasionally, which was mildly promising. Plumeria had noticed it first, shaking Guzma awake. Teeny tiny movements, but it was far better than nothing.

Guzma had officially given up on Team Skull. He just couldn't lead them and stay with you so much at the same time. He knew you'd probably be disappointed when you woke up, but they were already learning to lead themselves without him. Why bother, when he could focus his attention on you? He had tucked the old chain away in a box, the skull logo on the back of his jacket now blotted out with a big red X across it, and he'd even removed the tattoos. He felt better about it. Ohhhhhh, to everyone else, outside of your room, he was still Big Bad Scary Guzma, now that most of the people who'd seen his momentary lapse had forgotten about it, but the moment he entered your room, all alone in there with you, he was a gentle giant.

He rushed in, his eyes brighter than nearly anyone got the chance to see particularly often, plopping down beside your bed. "Yo! Sketchy! Listen up. I got you some stuff!" He plopped a bag down beside your bed, digging in it and pulling out a pokéball. "So. You always wanted a Scyther. Well guess what I fuckin' got! A Scyther! And I didn't even steal 'im. I got 'im legit. Cross my heart." He let the Scyther out of his pokéball, and it looked around curiously. "Don't worry, I gotcha," he murmured. Taking your hand, he dropped a few pokébeans in it, holding your arm carefully so the pokémon could eat them out of your hand. The sensation of your new pokémon munching up his snacks tickled, and the tiniest of smiles grew on your face, much to Guzma's appreciation. "Yeah! Yeah, I knew you'd like that. Gimme a sec, aight, here." He twisted your hand again, moving it so that you could rub its head. He nuzzled his head into your hand gently, taking a few steps forward.

After a little bit of petting, including from himself, he called it back into its ball, setting it aside carefully. "I gotcha somethin' else, too." He rustled around in the bag again, pulling out a large doll that had been what was taking up most of the space in the bag. It wasn't oversized, but bigger than the average stuffed animal. "It's a stuffed Snorlax! 'Cause I know you like them, too. I saw it, and it was - like, it's belly is like, sparkly? And it's kinda..." his voice started trailing off, getting a little shaky, "it's like, rainbow, ya know? It's not realistic but I know- I know you liked that kinda shit, so I wanted to get you a Snorlax and _please wake up_ , it's killin' me, I hate this." His voice had grown quiet, and he swallowed thickly, tears brimming in his eyes as he gently tucked the doll under your arm. Dropping to an almost shy-sounding murmur, he spoke again. "... I love you, alright? Please?"

He sucked in a deep breath, real slow, the resulting sigh low and heavy. "... Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wake up, Sketch. Ya boi needs ya.
> 
> Please?


	7. Regret Is A Big-Ass Pill That's Way Too Easy To Choke To Death On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choke to death. Huh. Maybe that'd be easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-destruction in human form.

Most of his time now was spent in your room, besides hanging around in the lobby and outside at the small beach in front of the Pokémon Center, intimidating the innocent people minding their own business. Sure, he could take a trip to his parent's house. He did, sometimes. He couldn't stay, though. _Fuck that. No way in fuckin' hell._

So for the moment, he was wandering back toward Po Town. Even though he'd effectively dissolved Team Skull, a bunch of old grunts still hung around, no better places to call home. A few of them looked up in surprise, barely recognizing him at first, their eyes lighting up. He raised his hand in silence, and they gave up the idea before it could even be thought.

As he wandered into the still wrecked town, a few old grunts waved. "Bo- erm, Guzma! Yo, how's Sketch?"

"Still fuckin' in a coma. I ain't sure what answer you were expectin'," he growled, and one of them winced, the other backing away from him as he continued his trek back to the mansion. Every grunt who tried to greet him was met with an irritable snarl that made all the rest of them nearby scatter as well. He may not be the boss anymore, but he was still kinda terrifying when he wanted to be.

Slowly but surely he made his way all the way back to his old room, cracking open the door. All the lights were off and it smelled musty and sad. He flicked on the lights with a frown plastered on his face, and the room sprung back to life, lighting up. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the shelves behind the bed that were still stocked. At least those kids had enough sense not to mess with his stuff.

Guzma made a plan.

That plan was to drink a portion of each and every bottle from that shelf.

It was a terrible plan but he liked the idea of it, so he started grabbing them up, starting in no particular order. A sense of cocky pride welled up in his gut, confident that either he'd be fine, or that he'd be horribly **not** fine and that maybe it would shut people the fuck up. Regardless, he did manage to reach his goal. Out of sorts, he plopped onto the bed. He'd have been far worse off if he wasn't used to it. "Fuuuck." He leaned back on the soft mattress, yawning widely, and began drifting in and out of sleep despite himself. In a daze, he rubbed his face, "Sketchy, c'mere, we can snu-" His voice cut off abruptly, waking him sharply. Thinking of you had not been part of the plan. As a matter of fact, the plan was in place to _prevent_  thinking about you.

With a tired scowl settling on his face, he picked up one of the unfinished bottles.

It was drained quickly.

A few of the remaining grunts in the mansion jumped at the painfully familiar sound of glass breaking.

He was back in your room the next day, as always. He wandered in, head tucked down, sunglasses on, hoodie up, hands tucked in his pockets. If his eyes hadn't been blocked by his shades, he would have been even more intimidating. He looked like he'd never slept a day in his entire _life_. The sunglasses only came up when he'd sat down beside your bed, but the hoodie stayed.

"Why? Huh? Why? This some stupid fuckin' adult version of a trail I can't pass? Can't even fuckin' do this right either?!" His voice continually crept higher in volume, and he wouldn't have cared how many other people and pokémon he disturbed, except... You had moved. You had moved, scrunched up your face for a moment, and he could see a spike on your heartbeat monitor. Leaning forward, he let himself rest his head against your Snorlax, which was still tucked safely under your arm. "Wake the fuck up. I'm not... good without you, alright? I don't fuckin' wanna be, but... you make me want to. And it's fuckin' stupid. Wake up." He sniffled quietly, scooting even closer. "Please. I love you, ya fuckhead, you can't fuckin' do this. _I_  can't do this. Fuck, man, what the fuck am I su- how the fuck do you- what the fuck," he finally huffed, a few stray tears trailing down his face. "Fuck you, okay? Fuck you. Wake up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's not happy. Not really. He hasn't been truly happy for a good long time now, and his shining star to blot out the inky abyss is for all intents and purposes, burnt out.


	8. And Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he had a single pokédollar for every time he heard that, he'd be rich enough to pay for the entirety of Po Town to be renovated.

Plumeria hadn't visited for a while, but she always made sure to, even after Team Skull was over. She was mad at him for it, sure, but she didn't want him to dig himself an early grave over you. Plus she did wanna actually visit you for _you_. She was still your friend. Even Ayla and Zeres still visited.

"Yo, Sketch, I'm- What the hell are you doin', G?"

Guzma jumped, spinning around on the spot, yanking his hands away from a few of your wires. "Nothin'."

She squinted at him suspiciously, making her way over to the other side of your bed. "... Riiiight. Whatever you say." Sitting down, she sighed, "Look, if you fuck wit somethin' that shouldn't be fucked wit, and Sketch dies, I'm offically never speakin' to you again, ya hear me?"

"I ain't fuckin' with shit I shouldn't fuck with, calm down." He plopped back down in his chair, rubbing his face wearily.

"Really? 'Cause those wires don't look like they're suppo-"

"Plumes, lay off it! For the love'a Arceus." A scowl was now carved into his features, slouching into his chair with a sneer. "I'm in charge of if they cut the life support or not, anyway," he growled, though it was quiet and half-hearted.

Sighing gently, she lowered her head, and after a long moment she spoke up again, voice tinged with regret, " 'M sorry, Guz. This ain't easy on any of us, but it's gotta be worse for you." She wasn't surprised at his lack of response, moving to dig in a bag she had brought. "Yo, Sketchy. Got you some tunes. Place has gotta be borin' as hell, and ain't a soul in the world that can rest with Guzma's snorin', either."

"I don't snore."

"Far as you know," she jabbed, but the sly smile on her face told him everything, and she knew it. Her smile turned triumphant when he responded with a quiet snort. Messing around with the earbuds for a few moments, she leaned over with a pat to your cheek, putting one of them in your ear. "Noise cancellin' earbuds. The best kind, just for you. I got this thing loaded up to play you tons of cool music. You'll be havin' your own personal parties! Alright, I'm gonna play some music for ya. I'll keep it low." After that, she gingerly put the other earbud in, rubbing your shoulder and turning on the music.

The moment she was confident much of the outside world had been muffled to you, whether you were actively listening or not, she rose, gently grabbing Guzma's wrist and pulling him aside. Her tugging was met with a wide-eyed, furrowed-brow frown, but before he could protest, she pulled him into a hug, her voice breaking. "I know I joked about you messin' with the wires, and I know I said I'd never talk to ya again, but Guz..." She pulled away from him, her eyes wet. The only reason her makeup wasn't running is because she had used waterproof makeup, _knowing_ she'd probably be crying today. "Guzma. It's been over a year."

He knew where she was going with this. He'd heard the beginnings of these spiels from Hala, Kukui, Nanu, and counting, and now the one person he'd trusted would be on his side was about to say it too. He didn't interrupt.

"... You gotta. It's nice for us, because we don't gotta lose 'em, but what about them? They're just..." She gave a vague gesture, her expression softening further, "... stuck. Are you thinkin' about them, both of you, or..." Plumeria's eyes lowered, not wanting to see the man's expression, "... or are you just thinkin' about you?" Her arms were still wrapped around his waist, but Guzma slowly dropped his own to his sides, growing unnaturally quiet. She hated his silence, resting her forehead against his shoulder. " 'M sorry, Guz," she repeated, softer. "I know. And 'm sorry."

Any other time, he would have been pissed. At any other time, with any other person, he would have interrupted, he would have thrown a few verbal threats, and if need be a number of physical ones as well, but when it was Plumeria doing it, he couldn't bring himself to. He wanted to yell, to rage, to burst into a hurricane and destroy everything in his vicinity but you and all the equipment keeping you tethered to life, to _him_... but he couldn't. It took a moment for him to regain his voice. "I can't do that. You know I can't do that." Balling his hands into fists at his sides, he slowly began to pull away from her. "I can't, alright? And don't bring it up again."

She let him go, reluctantly. She had fully expected him to say no, but she knew she had to try. If not for you, for him. "Aight, G. No more. But just, just think about it, okay?"

Another lack of response greeted her, and she shook her head, sitting back down beside you. She spent the rest of her visit rubbing your arm and holding your hand, and after a good 10 minutes, nabbing one of the earbuds for herself, tapping out beats on your shoulder.

It was getting a bit dark when she left to head back home, and he had been dozing in and out during her visit. As the light grew dim outside, and the nurses came around to turn down and out the lights for the night, however, he couldn't get himself to sleep for the life of him. For the life of _you_. A nurse came in and switched off the light after a few minutes, giving him a knowing nod. He stayed overnight. No one questioned that anymore.

If you could have seen him, you would swear he'd just seen an uncovered Mimikyu, with how wide and wild his eyes were as he scanned the room, then you, then his hands, then you, round and round endlessly. It would have been a terrifying sight, really, the natural worn-out grumpiness of his usual expression turned whacked out and unhinged. His mind was racing a mile a minute, and every single thought involved you.

He didn't get any sleep. It didn't even occur to him to try. Come daylight, however, when the nurse came in to check how you were doing, he was fast asleep, head resting against the edge of your bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Your own personal parties" definitely translates to "listening to Hollywood Undead's Party By Myself on repeat because that song is good shit". Plume knows her friend's faves - and knows good music that would fit them... and good music that will help drown out the world and all its sadness.


	9. Island Challenge, Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only one island, and only one trial, and he still wasn't entirely sure he was going to be able to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you wanna know what I listened to for a large part of listening to this? It helped me write in ways I hadn't written before for this fic, and it also made this situation twice as depressing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZsXcc_tC-o
> 
> No trust me, I cried so hard writing this. I hated it but that's how you know you're doing it right.
> 
> Deep breath in.  
> Slow breath out.  
> Let's go.

He should have seen it coming. Hell, he had seen it coming, and decided to blatantly ignore it, as if that would make it go away.

You weren't going to wake up.

He had gotten used to the vibe of being holed up inside a Pokémon Center. He was scared to let you go, some of it being because at this point, your room had become a sort of mini home to him. Where would go when he had no reason to come back?

Your hand was currently enveloped by his, easily covering yours, which he'd always thought was adorable. Now it was just sad, reminding him of how small and fragile you were at this point. Oh sure, the awful chest wound had healed, better than expected, even, but your mind hadn't. It had been so long. He stared down at where your hands met as he intertwined your fingers and gently thumbed little shapes against the back of your hand. _This is.. this is some sorta fuckin' karmic punishment, huh? But why Sketch? If you're gonna fuck with me, why drag other people into it... ?_

He was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you, first, whether you were really hearing him or not, and to one of the nurses, at some point. "I think-... I think I-..." shutting his eyes tightly, he shook his head, squeezing at your hand a bit. "No, Guzma, you fuckin' wimp, say it." Huffing heavily, he looked back up, a serious, resolute glint in his eyes. "I think it's time to cut off the life support."

As soon as he said it, the weight of what it meant punched him in the gut, and he dropped his head, all hints of confidence shattered. "I don't fuckin' want to... baby, _wake up_... Please, c'mon..." He knew begging wouldn't help. It made him feel weak, and he'd tried it a million times already anyway. "Look, I can-" he cut himself off, not sure what he could really do. He thought about all the powerful pokémon in the world, all of them that were essentially gods to the mere humans that were graced with their presence. "Look I ain't ever been the best guy," which was an understatement, he knew, but continued, "but please. Someone? Something? Leave Sketch alone. If you wanna hurt someone, just- fuckin' hurt ME, okay?!" Voice breaking, he let himself cry for the umpteenth time. Watching someone you love slowly die was very tear-demanding work.

It took a good number of minutes, but he finally quieted down, leaning his head against his arm, watching you with puffy, damp, worn out eyes. "I don't... know what I'm gonna do without you." Slowly, he reached out a hand, stroking his fingers over where the scar of the slash across your chest had been. "I'd give up so much... to stop this. Ya know that?" Swallowing thickly, he reached up and stroked your cheek, his breathing deep, but shaky. "Plume's a great girl. But she ain't you, Sketch. She ain't you. I don't even fuckin' remember what da Skulls were like before you came in. How the hell did I get by without you?"

He allowed himself to play with your hair absently, watching as your nose wrinkled at the sensation, and he tapped at your nose gently with a weak laugh, "I'mma play witcha hair, and you're gonna like it, aight?" His fingers threaded knots through your hair, then gently raked back through, undoing the mess before repeating it all over again.  _Nah. Life support stays. We still got this._  In spite of his thoughts, he murmured out loud, hoping somehow a magic answer that would fix the problem would come to him, "I... don't got this."

It was quiet for a long while. He was a little hungry, but he couldn't bear to leave your side, the very real possibility that this would be the last day he'd get to spend with you hanging over him. If he had to get crushed by it at some point, he may as well use his pre-crush time wisely. If that meant not moving besides bathroom breaks all day, he could handle that.

"Ya broke me, Sketch. Ya know that? You fucked me all up and now... now look at me." Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward, tilting your head up and pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss against your head, stroking your cheek. He was doing his damn best not to cry, playing with your hair, stroking your cheek and shoulder, pecking little kisses all over your cheeks and head and nose and chin, burying his face into the nape of your neck. "Fuck. How the fuck am I gonna do this?" He could see the spikes on your heart monitor, all in time with his loving ministrations, and he chuckled sadly. "... Still not enough to wake ya up... Alright. Alright..."

Nobody was allowed to visit that day. He requested the nurse turn away visitors, outside of your pokémon. As if knowing what was going on, Erayse appeared in the room after a few hours, hanging above the two of you like an odd mix of a reaper and guardian angel.

Guzma spent the day close to you, as close as he could get through a barrier of tubes and wires, gently exploring you. He rubbed your thigh gently, just to touch you. Squeezing your arm, rubbing your tummy, patting at your chest and cheeks, like he'd never done any of it before. It was almost a child-like, innocent exploration, consisting of rubbing and patting and squeezing and kissing and nuzzling, as if you were going to disappear into thin air, and he was running out of time to catch what he could of you.

He tried not to think about how accurate that was.

The end of the day was approaching. He wasn't ready. Honestly, he wasn't sure if there was any way he _could_  have gotten himself ready. He glanced up at Erayse, who had been silently circling above like a ghostly bird of prey. _A Gastly bird of prey. Heh. Sketch would love tha-_  Ray came to a stop, looking back down at him, equally solemn expressions on both of their faces. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna do it before I lose the nerve. Ya promise ya won't get mad at me?" Ray gave him a nod after a long moment. Even he knew that this had gone on long enough.

It took all the courage he'd ever mustered up in his entire life to rise from his seat, very reluctantly removing his hands from your warmth. He stepped out into the hallway, quietly getting the attention of one of the nurses. He always had his trademark slouch, but for the last year or so it stemmed heavily from the experience of being emotionally drained, and no more obvious was it than the moment the nurse made her way over to him. He pressed all the words out in a rush before he could bite any of them back. "Ithinkweshouldcutoffthelifesupport."

Thankfully, he didn't have to repeat it again, as her head lowered, giving him an understanding nod. "Are you sure?"

"No," he blurted in a half-whisper.

"We can wait until you're su-"

"Fuck, okay, I'm sure. If we don't do it now I'm never gonna give the okay and- and I can't do that. I can't keep 'em stuck here in limbo. So just, please." His shoulders fell, rubbing at his face, and he watched with teary eyes as she nodded again, heading into your room. If he hadn't been so afraid to never get to see you again, he wouldn't have went back in while she detached everything. She turned off the heart monitor, and it finally hit him that this was it. There was no reason to have it on. Your heart was going to stop beating, anyway.

He panicked briefly, once the ventilator was turned off, and he made it his one last goal to make sure you knew. Once the tube had been removed, he blocked the nurse from detaching anything else, leaning forward and kissing you so gently that it almost physically hurt him to not kiss you harder. "I love you, (Y/N). I- I was _in_  love with you, hell, I still am. I'm not gonna find anybody better than you, you know that? Ever. And I hate it but I need you to know that, okay? I'm sorry. I was never good enough and I'm so fuckin' sorry."

Backing away from you, he set his jaw despite the tears running down his face, swallowing thickly as the rest of your worldly attachments were removed.

He stayed with you, holding your hand until the only warmth in it came from his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, man. Me too, G. Me too, buddy...


	10. Punch Back, Pt. 2 (or; Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're supposed to punch back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Lucario, and Scizor.  
> ... Those were yours.

Guzma had taken in all of your pokémon, and after a few weeks of deliberation moved into a new house that had recently been built, right outside the confines of Iki Town. Hala had gently insisted on it, knowing that keeping him close to a positive environment, however much Guzma disliked it, would be good for him. He really had no idea how to handle a proper house, and most of the time he didn't bother. He just adopted a little Trubbish and let it munch on any mess that collected.

He barely took care of himself, either. Hala, Plumeria, and even Ayla and Zeres once in a while, made regular check-ups. They didn't bother him much, or ask any questions. Just tidied up a little, made some food for him and kept an eye on him until he ate, took a few moments to encourage him to take a shower, or at least a bath, played with the pokémon and made sure they had food and water, made sure to remove any alcohol from the premises, then left to give him some space again.

He visited your grave every other day for 2 months. Most of his trips he would sit down in front of it, staring at it silently. He never allowed himself to cry, lest anyone see, but he sat. And he stared. Sometimes he would feel the odd chill run down his spine, and an occasional glimpse of Erayse, watching him from a distance, giving him a sad glance before fading out of sight again. Ray missed you too. Guzma had a respect for ghost types, what with having started a gang called Team _Skull_ , of all things, but he never really had a soft spot for them. If your Haunter was a good example of the ghost types, however, he was doing a pretty good job repping for them.

After that, it tapered off to every week, to every other week, to every month. Taking care of himself, and the house, became easier. When he first moved in, he didn't keep too much around the house. If he trashed his new home in a grieving rage, he knew you'd be disappointed in him. Slowly, as he began to accept what had happened, his destructive habits and guilt easing with every meeting and session of battling or exercise with Hala, he began to add more decorations, interior and exterior. He made sure the house stood out, just enough - no one could mistake who lived there once he'd splattered all varieties of paint across it. It wasn't rainbow, but it was certainly "different looking", as Plumeria had said it. It had a special, splattery uniqueness to it - it almost reminded him of the drippy spray paint that Team Skull had plastered everywhere in Po Town. It was a nice mix between new and old.

"(Y/N) would have liked it," he insisted quietly. "It's colorful."

"Yeah... Maybe you should add some glitter," Plumes teased, gently nudging him, and he scoffed at her comment, though didn't reply. A bittersweet quiet settled between them, the only noises being his and your pokémon wandering around the house, inside and out. Jellybean's soft buzzing could be heard near the kitchen window, and Golisopod was chattering with Lucario, Ariados, and Trubbish in the backyard.

"Plume? Where do you think people go when they die," he finally questioned, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Brows raising, she tilted her head, giving a wistful sigh. The question surprised her, especially coming from him, but as his rough exterior continued flaking away, the _fact_  that he had surprised her, in and of itself, wasn't surprising. "Probably somewhere cool, Guz. Like... Like Poké Pelago, but for everyone, not just pokémon. Like, there's a shitton'a food, and you don't need'a eat it, but all of it is fuckin' good so you do anyway, and it's the perfect temp, all the time."

A soft, gentle snort escaped him at her description. "Yeah. What about us, though?" Head down, he avoided eye contact, fiddling with his hands. "Not sure I'mma get there, at least..."

Her shoulders dropped, leaning forward toward him. "That's the only place _to_ go, G. All of us on equal ground." A hint of a smile crept onto his features, and she relaxed again, content in giving him a little peace, at least for the moment. "... Alright big guy, I'mma go, okay? Hit me up if you need me. Or wanna talk. Or just wanna, I dunno, hang or somethin'." She wouldn't know, and he'd never tell, just how tightly he clung to the hope that her idea of the afterlife had some sort of standing.

Two years passed by, with Guzma barely noticing. He spent a lot of his time now down at the beach near Kukui's, giving the man a lazy wave whenever they spotted each other. Today, however, he had decided to visit your grave again, dropping a bundle of flowers he had picked himself in a messy pile at your gravestone. A light flush rose on his cheeks, feeling like a small child handing their parent a bouquet of sloppily picked, sweaty-hand-tainted flowers. "Heh. Best I could get short notice," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

As he returned home that evening, he couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. It made him shiver, trying to squash down any hint of fear. He could handle it if someone... or something, tried to attack him. He always brought Golisopod and Jellybean with him, safely tucked in their pokéballs on his small trips. He got home with no problem, the lights already on, as Erayse enjoyed lighting up the house for him before he returned home, giving the house a cozier look to it than dark and lifeless. He spotted Scizor peeking out of the living room window, waving a large claw, and he laughed, waving back. "Loser," he muttered affectionately, opening the door and stepping inside. He immediately relaxed as he entered his house, letting his two companions out of their balls as well. "Alright, guys and gals, _I_  am gonna take a shower. We can eat dinner, and then sleep."

Everything was going nicely until he stepped into his bedroom. The air in his bedroom was much colder than the rest of the house... and much darker than usual. "Ray, stop fuckin' around, please. I need to sleep." After a moment's pause, a confused murmur came from behind him, causing him to jump and spin around. Erayse was floating near the wall. He wasn't doing anything. Guzma swallowed thickly when that realization hit him. Slowly, he turned back around, eyeing any spots of light shining in from the windows. _There!_  One of the shadows coming from the window frame danced and squirmed for a moment, and a very quiet snicker sounded from near his bed. Before he could even call for any of his pokémon to hurry in, or give Erayse a command, Ray made his way over to the bed, disappearing into the shadows as well. _Well, great, thanks Ray._  After a moment, however, another giggle sounded, and the tension in the air eased, the heaviness blanketing the room fading. Sure enough, Ray reappeared, and a chesire-like grin formed beside him, a Gengar fading into view.

"So... you're the one that followed me home, huh?" The Gengar nodded, waving it's hands up and down, it's grin growing even wider than he previously thought would be possible. Erayse was swirling around the Gengar happily, and the Gengar seemed just as pleased, toddling around in a circle. Brows furrowing at the odd exchange, he shook his head. "Well, I mean, thanks for visiting 'n all, but I kinda wanna..." He trailed off, watching as Ray seemingly nuzzled the Gengar, and it returned the gesture... then suddenly dashed over toward him, barreling into him. Considering Gengar was a ghost, he wasn't actually expecting any force, and he nearly fell flat on his ass. "Ah, shit! What the fuck?! Okay look, buddy-"

You grinned widely, chuckling deviously at him a moment, before holding out your arm. He didn't understand what in the world was going on, even as Ray slipped past, making a grab at his hand. "Haaaaunter," he sighed.

"Gar," you insisted.

"What the actual fuck are you two trying to say?" At this point, he was too tired to be angry, just bewildered at the situation happening around him.

Stepping over, you gave him a little punch on the arm. All at once he sucked in a breath so big, it hurt his lungs. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized why Ray had seemed so happy. "Gar," you insisted again, quieter. _You're supposed to punch back!_

Giving a breathless laugh, he sat up, wiping his eyes with one hand, swinging a fist toward you feebly with the other. You could have easily let his hand slip through you, but you let it hit, chuckling to yourself at his reaction. "... You fuckin' scared me, you asshole," he whispered, voice choked as he finally looked back up at you. You knew he was referring to far more than just tonight.

Of _course_ you would end up a Gengar. Sketch and Erayse, the closest thing Team Skull had had to grunt-level heroes. "Look, if you get to be 'destruction in human form', then I get to be chaos incarnate, alright?" you had joked to him one afternoon, when you both were in a particularly good mood. "Chaos incarnate. Sounds like a Gengar, that's for sure," he murmured gently, eyeing you with a sniffle.

By now many of the other pokémon who weren't in their pokéballs had made their way to the doorway, watching, your own pokémon making an excited ruckus when they realized it was you. Now that _he_  had realized it was you, you made your way over to his bed, slipping into the shadows underneath it. "... Guess you're gonna stick around, huh? ... Good." Waving his other companions away for the night, Ray reluctantly slipping out of the room as well, he pulled off his jacket and shirt, kicking off his shoes and pants before climbing into his bed. A few shadows from the window slithered closer, and his blanket slid up around him without him even touching it. You were rewarded with a sleepy, content smile at that, and you sat beside his bed, watching him as he made himself comfortable. You couldn't help but take notice of a stuffed Snorlax by the side of the bed, not normally something he'd have, especially with a colorful glittery belly- and you realized, quickly, that even after all this time, he'd kept it.

"(Y/N)- er, Sketch," he queried, voice thick with sleep. You puffed a breath of cool air across his face as a confirmation you were listening, and he yawned widely. "... I love you. G'night."

 _Goodnight, G. I love you too._  "Geeeengar," you whispered soothingly, snuggling up under his bed again. It wasn't the same... but it was better than nothing.

Guzma had another training session with Hala the next morning, and for once, he was ready and rarin' to go. You appeared in the living room just as he was about to head out, and his eyes widened. "Oh shit! SKEtch," his voice cracked in surprise, "I'm sorry, I almost forgot about you, baby," he yelped, easily slipping back into the familiarity the both of you had shared before everything went downhill, as if no time had passed, and you had just magically poofed into a Gengar immediately. You laughed at the odd crack in his voice as he hurried back inside, looking around his bag for a pokéball that you could stay in. You wandered over, looking through them yourself, and he stepped back, startled, as a flash of pink jumped from the bag. He bent down to look at it, picking it up and spinning it around. A glare settled on his face when he realized what it was, looking around for you to no avail. "Really? A fuckin' _love ball_? I don't even remember where the hell I got that!"

You giggled teasingly from a corner of the room, sticking your tongue out, and he immediately spun and chucked the ball at you before you could get out of the way. Amused, and certainly pleased he had actually used it instead of finding another one, you snuggled up in the ball, listening as he stepped over and picked you up. "Fuck you," he chuckled. A small wiggle from the ball alerted him to your resentment of his comment, and he rubbed at the heart on the outside of your new pokéball with a smile. It wasn't hard to hear in his voice as he raised the ball closer. "Don't take that as an offer anymore, I'm not sure how human and Gengar relationship dynamics work," he murmured playfully, kissing the ball lightly and setting you in with the rest of his team.

\---~:~---

Guzma eyed Hala. "Alright Sketch. Show 'em how we do this!" A curious quirk of an eyebrow raise could be seen on Hala's face as a Gengar materialized in front of them both. A Gengar, on Melemele. From Guzma, the bug lover. With you as it's namesake. From a love ball, of all things. He shot a confused look at your new 'trainer'. The both of you only glanced at each other, sharing the same shit-eating grin, giving each other a fist bump before looking back. "Ready when you are, old man!"

Ghost types were now firmly cemented as almost as good as bug types.

... Almost. You and Ray would have to work on him a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damage Done... and damage healed.
> 
> Told ya Sketch had a meaning. ;)
> 
> Writing and posting this has been fun, and honestly I'm sad it's over.
> 
> .. I'd probably be willing to write a new story about Guzma and Sketch's continued shenanigans now that they're a Gengar. Maybe little one shots sometimes. Make it a series.
> 
> ... Actually I like the sound of that. If you guys want a big story though, I am 100% open to ideas and joint brainstorming!
> 
> EDIT: YOOOO I actually have an idea for a continuation, for anyone interested! It'll be great. I mean, you guys now have to relearn everything. Can't kiss and snuggle a Gengar.
> 
> ... Can you?


End file.
